


Saving Captain Crieff

by ThreePipePr0blem (7percent)



Series: Saving Captain Crieff [7]
Category: Cabin Pressure
Genre: M/M, Mental Health Issues, Suicide Attempt
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-08-06
Updated: 2012-09-29
Packaged: 2017-11-11 13:00:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,475
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/478797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7percent/pseuds/ThreePipePr0blem
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Today was the day that Martin planned on changing everything.  // abandoned, not finishing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a multichapter part to the Saving Captain Crieff series. It will contain some sensitive material and scenes of a graphic nature. Once again, unbeta'd.

He had been calm for the past few weeks, hardly uttering a word to anyone. Martin kept a calender on the wall on his attic. One which was covered in planes from the 1900s. Each day was crossed off as it passed, but today's date had been circled with a thick red Sharpie marker. 

This date was important. Not because it resembled his birthday. Not because it dated the day he passed his CPL. Nor was it the date he was employed by Carolyn. The date Martin had circled was the date he was going to change everything. 

Martin had planned it all out. Everything he needed was in a shoe box located underneath his bed. Today was the day. Everything would go according to plan. This time he wouldn't fail. It wouldn't be like his CPL exams because this time he would keep preserving and there would be no time limit. He would make sure of it.

He took the box carefully from it's hiding spot. Pulling it gently although it was glass, not wanting to damage anything. The box itself was old, he had kept from the pair of shoes he bought when he first joined MJN. Frail, pale hands lifted up the cover and Martin breathed a sigh of relief. 

Everything was in it's place. Three crisp white envelopes, each with a different name written. One for each person of MJN. Their names elegantly written from a fountain pen that Martin had gotten when he passed his GCSEs. That seemed like such a long time ago now. Time seemed to move slower and slower and finally, it was going to stop. Today it was going to stop and there was nothing anyone could do to prevent it.

Among the envelopes lied other bits and pieces that would help Martin complete his task. They varied from different razor blades from disposable razors, scalpel blades and an old pocket knife his father had given him. It was beautiful to look at each blade and watch them shine in the sunlight that poured through the window in the attic. It was the bitter-sweet reality to the captain's plan. Everything looked so beautiful and yet he was going to leave a mess. 

Not only did he have the letters and scraps of metal, it also included two bottles of aspirin that had never been opened as well as about 10 ft of industrial rope which he could easily hold the frail man's weight. Martin put the box down, grabbed the chair from his desk and placed it in the middle of his room below the hook he had placed in the ceiling two weeks beforehand. 

No matter what medium he chose, he would succeed. Martin Crieff was not known for quitting.

***

 

Douglas tapped his foot impatiently as he waited for the call to connect. He had been woken up early this morning by Carolyn who requested that he was to ring Martin and tell him of the upcoming flight. 

He had rung the same number six times now and should Martin not answer this call he was going to drive round to the shared accommodation that he lived in and drag him out. Luckily, luck was on Douglas' side. 

“H-hello?” Martin's voice was timid, almost panicked. Douglas frowned.

“Martin, hello, just got up have we?” 

“N-no, I just didn't hear you call... my phone was on silent.” Douglas sighed. That made more sense. Douglas leant his table and moved his phone to the other ear. 

“Carolyn has a flight planned, she wants us at the airfield in two hours.” The was a long tense silence before Martin replied.

“I-I can't.” That got Douglas' attention. Martin not being able to fly was not what Douglas deemed as 'a good thing'. If anything the fact that Martin had claimed he couldn't fly would be something to worry about, and that was exactly what Douglas was doing right now. He silently picked up his keys and headed to the door, phone still in hand.

“What do you mean you can't. Those aren't the words a certain captain of MJN would say if offered a chance to fly.” Douglas had now moved to his Lexus. He unlocked the door, got in and started the ignition before Martin whispered through the phone. 

“Like you care.” 

“Of course I care, do you really think I don't?” Douglas put his phone in the hands free set and pulled away from the pavement. “What's going on Martin?”

“Nothing is going on. I'm just not going to be able to fly for a while.” Martin's voice had an annoyed tone lingering on it. 

“A while? You said you couldn't fly today?” Douglas sped up slightly, in the hopes that he could reach Martin before he did anything stupid. 

“Well...” the captain hesitated, “I won't be in any state to fly, so therefore I can't.” By this point Douglas had broken so many speed limits and was driving down the road that Martin lived on. He panicked as he saw the apartment building. The door was wide open and by the vague answers Martin was giving Douglas was worried the boy would be doing something stupid. 

He parked up, unbuckled his seatbelt and moved quietly through the house until he saw the attic door. He slowly pushed it open as he saw the empty bottle of aspirin on the floor, and the second container drop out of Martin's limp, lifeless hand.

“Martin!” The captain turned to look at Douglas with a sad look in his eyes. He almost felt ashamed at what he had done. He felt so sleepy, he hadn't even noticed that the first officer was taking him somewhere until he was faced with the pure white bowl of the shared toilet on the second floor. “You're going to throw them back up, and then we'll talk.”


	2. Chapter 2

Martin glared at the white porcelain bowl. He didn't want to throw the aspirin up. Why should he? Martin Crieff was not a quitter and he refused to give Douglas the satisfaction. 

“And why, pray tell me, should I listen to you?” Martin growled. He tried to get up, get away from the possibility of surviving, only to feel the first officer's hands on his shoulders pushing him back towards the toilet bowl. He moved his head so that he was staring at the bathroom door. The door itself was made of basic timber, the lock broken after constant usage and the students attempting to use it all at the same time during a morning. Suddenly a pair of dark brown eyes entered his line of vision.

“Why are you doing this Martin?” Douglas asked in a calm voice. 

“Like you care.” he snapped back. “You're just going to tell me things that will guilt trip me into throwing the aspirin up. Like: 'Oh Martin, you can't kill yourself. It's so selfish!' Well guess what Douglas, asking someone to keep on living when they hate every second of their life is selfish. Especially if it is just so that person doesn't have to have a pay cut because their boss couldn't find another pilot who would work for free.” 

Douglas was taken aback. He was shocked. Did Martin really think that he didn't care for the other man? He opened his mouth, only to find the words he wanted to say to comfort the younger man had escaped him. He was truly speechless. 

“How could you think that I'd want you gone Martin? Why would I want to leave? If I wanted you gone so badly I wouldn't have fucking dragged you to a hospital in Cremona and I certainly wouldn't have stayed the night worried sick that you were going to pass away. You have no idea how bloody scared I was Martin. Do you even realise how much that effected me? I don't care if you think this is all bloody selfish of me, but I was in tears. In actual tears trying to keep it together while talking to Carolyn. So don't you bloody say I don't care because I care a lot more than you think I do.” Douglas paused. His own eyes going wide. He had almost let it slip just how much he cared. He had decided after Helena he would no longer tell anyone should he develop feelings for them. It caused too much pain and heartache. He moved his hand so it rested on Martin's cheek before speaking again, much more softly than before: “Please, at least attempt to throw up those aspirins otherwise I will be driving you straight to Fitton Accident and Emergency.”

Martin shook his head. “I don't want to.”

“Give me one good reason why you don't want to.”

“I don't like being sick.” Douglas knew this was a lie. If the scars on Martin's knuckles were anything to go by, Douglas was certain that Martin made himself throw up on a semi-regular basis. If the small purple marks did prove that then the fact Douglas could see how drastically thin Martin was through his shirt was. 

“Bullshit. Throw it up.” Martin just shook his head in response. Douglas sighed. “Then you're coming with me.” He grabbed onto the other man's arm and tried to pull Martin towards the door. His arm was too pale, he could see all the scars that scattered it. Thick, deep marks that resembled so much self hatred and pain. It was almost beautiful. Martin pulled away and moved towards to the other side of the bathroom. “If you're going to act like this I'm just going to leave you here.” The first officer got up and walked outside the bathroom, leaving the door wide open. 

Martin glanced at the door and tears welled up in his eyes. “Please don't leave.” He uttered before tears fell down his face. He brought his hand towards his mouth and pondered whether or not he should at least attempt to throw up the pills that would make him escape from the troubles he faced. 

Douglas had heard the heard the small plea and sunk to the floor before breaking down. He really doubted he'd be able to do anything this time.


	3. Chapter 3

It was at the sound of retching that made Douglas think back to his medical training. Although he hadn't done a lot of learning as his time as a medical student, other than 'examine' a few bodies and drink his way into a hangover, he could remember a fair bit about overdoses. One of the things he remembered was that Martin really shouldn't be making himself throw up. Douglas may have been the one to tell the younger man to induce vomiting, but that was only out of pure fear he may lose the pilot if he didn't at least do something to get the drugs out of his system.

He looked through the door into the bathroom, and saw the ginger haired man with his fingers down his throat and tears streaming down his cheeks. Douglas knew things were bad, he just wished that he could stop the pain that Martin felt on a daily basis. He quietly got up and removed the hand from Martin's mouth.

“I'm sorry Martin. I'm so sorry.” The first officer took hold of Martin's chin. “You have got to believe me on this one, we need to get you to the hospital. Now.” Martin gulped. He opened his mouth a few times before he took a deep breath, looking up into Douglas' eyes.

“W-why are you still here? Why are you even trying to help?” His voice was croaky, dry. Martin fought to keep his eyes open. His throat hurt, it felt like his throat was burning from inside of his neck. A hot ball of fire stuck in his throat. More tears ran down his cheeks, only to be wiped away by Douglas. 

“Because no matter what you think, I actually want you here Martin.” He took a deep breath. “Going by the amount of aspirin you've taken I would assume you've overdosed, and although the rate of you dying of an aspirin overdose are quite low...” A shaky breath escaped the older man. It was hard for him to talk to the captain about his health. “I- I'd rather not have you die. You're far too important to me.” He placed a kiss on Martin's forehead. He had never mentioned before that he had a soft spot for the captain, but he needed to show him that he wasn't alone. That someone cared about Martin. 

“I-I don't understand Douglas. I thought you... I don't even know what I thought any more. Everything seems so out of proportion and I have no idea who I am any more. I thought I was a captain of a small charter airline, but let's face it. When this is all said and done you'll get your captain's epaulettes back and be so much happier. I … I just hope Carolyn can find another pilot that will work for nothing. Otherwise that's your job down the drain too.” The frail man burst into a coughing fit. He put his arms around his stomach and hunched over. “O-oh god. It hurts so much Douglas.” 

Douglas looked on in shock. “I-I know. We have to get to you the hospital now okay?” He pulled Martin into his arms and took the smaller man down towards his Lexus. He softly ran his hands through the broken and dead strands of the captain's hair. Martin would pull through, surely the luck of Douglas Richardson would be able to help the boy pull through. The older man opened the door to his car and placed the sick man inside the passenger seat. He closed the door and walked round to the drivers side, started up the car and the pulled away from the kerb. 

It was after a few quiet moments that Douglas realised he should have been checking on Martin as he was driving. The first officer glanced over and noticed that Martin has lost consciousness. Douglas pulled the car over and leant over to the younger man.

“Martin?” No response came from the man sat in the passenger seat. Douglas shook his shoulder. “Come on Martin. This isn't funny.” Tears fell down his cheeks when Martin remained silent. Douglas hesitantly brought his hand to Martin's neck and checked for a pulse. It was faint, but luckily still there.   
It was then Douglas broke all the speed limits on his way to Fitton A&E. If he got a ticket he wouldn't care so long as Martin was alive by the end of all of this. He needed to say how he felt with words and not just a gesture of affection. He needed to see Martin smile again. Martin needed to survive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ...why is this so hard to write? Why?


End file.
